


Disconnected

by LiaLox



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Bromance, Brotp, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I'll let you imagine the ships, MT!Prompto, but in reverse?, but there aren't even any
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiaLox/pseuds/LiaLox
Summary: IGN news: Final Fantasy XV To Get Multiplayer Mode as DLC.Prompto Argentum is a total nerd that loves video games, and is extremely talented with technology. He lands his dream job at Square Enix to moderate the new gameplay features they’re trying to incorporate in addition to being one of the many Multiplayer Testers (MTs) for the upcoming DLC. Of course, part of the job description includes monitoring the extremely advanced AIs: Noctis, Gladiolus and Ignis.What’s not part of the job description is getting a little too attached to them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another unconventional MT!Prompto AU. I really just wanted to post the idea elsewhere bc I couldn’t think of a plot, but yolo? (Don’t you feel kinda dirty when they say that they’ll track your IP address when you try to post on those kink meme website and your idea is sandwiched between sexy requests??)
> 
> This AU’s Virtual Reality is more advanced than our own.

 

 

The tutorial phase was painfully long. At least Stand By Me was a good song to pass the time. Use the cursor to move, click this to push the Regalia… blah blah blah, now where’s the action? Prompto was getting _bored_.

“You won’t even notice if we just let go,” Prompto said, half to himself. He was pretty sure this thing would automatically reach Hammerhead, and the outpost was still a ways away.

“Prompto,” Gladio grunted from the rear end of the car. Prompto jumped a little to hear his name spoken out loud by an NPC. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He obediently kept pushing the car. Whoa. They just don’t make AIs the same anymore. These guys are practically self-aware.

 

* * *

 

A red strip of colour appeared on his HUD as the sinister rhythm of an encounter brewed. In a burst of life and sound, the battle begun. The thundering zap of a warp-strike hissed past his ear and landed straight in the chest of a scorpion. Ignis and Gladio had already drawn their blades, trailing closely behind Noctis, ready to support their Prince. 

“Wow,” Prompto gasped as he stepped into his first battle, gun raised. Explosions and exaggerated slashes littered the battlefield, with gorgeous mountains and an endless expanse of glittering sand as their backdrop. “This is like a real-life RPG.”

 

* * *

 

Fort Garmouth. A spawn base for Multiplayer Testers, or MTs for short. Somehow, even the AIs have adapted to that abbreviation. He’d asked the party once, just out of curiosity as to why they called them MTs. He was told they were “empty” inside. That’s how Prompto learned that the flashy outfits of each individual avatar don’t load for the party. He turned off the settings himself; equippable chocobo tails were cool and all, but they just messed with the fps.

So he was looking at the same thing Noctis, Ignis and Gladio were seeing. Steel masks donned on generic avatars based on their choice of class, lips unmoving as MTs used chatboxes to communicate.

> [noctits] OMFG U GUYS I SEE NOCtiS!!!
> 
> [noctits] HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN 4K HOLYSHIT
> 
> [mage_tech] is prince noctis a mob??? Whts his spawn rate
> 
> [phantomedge] how do I equip my weapons
> 
> [itsbits14] I heard he drops the engine blade if u fight him
> 
> [Moderator][Quicksilver] Noctis and his party do not drop any items. Please refrain from engaging as we are still testing their performance.
> 
> [gam3rgirl] it’s a MOD hi Quicksilver HIIII
> 
> [Moderator][Quicksilver] hello
> 
> [itsbits14] When are we gonna get to explore Niflheim?

Prompto turned off the chat box at that point. The questions never stopped, and he had no answers. The developers never tell game testers anything.

He hoped they wouldn’t attack, but he was an idiot for saying anything in the first place. You really shouldn’t tell a bunch of people not to do something online, especially when you’re a mod, because deep down, everyone is a troll. Within moments, several MTs had looked at their direction and began to make their way over.

He turned the chat back on just to see what had changed in the 10 seconds he had it closed. 

> [noctits] IDC I JUST WANT GLADIO’S PECS
> 
> [noctits] CANT STOP WONT STOP

Prompto regretted his decision and closed the chat immediately.

“We’ve been spotted,” Gladio said under his breath as several MTs came charging at him. He drew his sword.

“Your pecs are what was spotted!” Prompto blurted. “I blame your muscles for all this! Seriously, put a shirt on, Gladio.”

“Ha, I know you like these _guns_ , kid,” Gladio flexed before he leapt to attack. “But don’t let them distract you!”

  

* * *

 

“Mind telling me what you’re up to, buddy?” Prompto asked quizzically. Noctis was jumping up and down in front of Cindy. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Noct was one of the multiplayer testers trying to get a better angle of her tits. Except the canon ship for the Prince was Lunafreya and he wasn’t sure to what extent the AIs could go against the basics of their programming.

Noctis looked at him mid-jump and suddenly stopped. “Oh… huh? I don’t know what just came over me. I was trying to talk to Cindy and I just… jumped?”

“Perhaps a remedy or a maiden’s kiss is in order,” Ignis offered him a vial. “Hopping is a symptom of Toad.”

Or a symptom of poorly allocated configurations for certain commands? Prompto made a note of that.

“Yeah, I’ll take some,” Noctis reached out and crushed the vial, letting its contents seep away into magic and envelope him like an aura. “Thanks.”

“Well then, once you’ve finished your business,” Ignis motioned to the Regalia. “Shall we _hop_ to it?”

Prompto’s lips tugged into a smile. “Ignis, you’re _toad_ -ally awesome.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto was fiddling with his wrists again. Behind his accessories were a series of lines and numbers that were really buttons for the menu and his player ID. He was allocating the points of his Ascension Grid when Ignis walked into the room.

“Prompto?” Ignis asked, taking a note of they way his fingers were awkwardly placed on his wrist. “You’re taking quite a bit of time to get ready. Is something the matter?”

“Uh, no,” Prompto stammered. He let go of his wrists immediately. “Just primping and preening. Y’know. Gotta look my best for the ladies!”

Ignis sighed. “Your clothes will get ruffled the moment we get exposed to the wind of the Regalia or start bashing monsters. Nevertheless…” He went up to him and fixed the collar of his shirt, adjusting a button as his fingers ghosted over the rest of his outfit. He even tenderly brushed away a strand of hair and took a step back to take one last look.

“Perfectly presentable,” Ignis mused. “Once you’re ready, come and join us for breakfast.”

“O-kay!” Prompto grinned. Ignis was just like the mother he never had.

 

* * *

 

Yet another hunting quest. It was tedious, but the gil was very much needed. Not to mention this particular hunt was meant to be limited-time only for the next update, and Prompto had to evaluate the gameplay mechanics before its release to the general public. He would probably need to fight this monster several times, and he dreaded thinking about how to convince the party to do just that. Photo-ops that were coincidentally near hunts was getting played out. But still, how could he not be pumped up for this? He's seriously going to be the very first person to fight this monster, _ever_. 

“Alright!” Prompto waved his hand in the air as his gun materialized between his fingertips. “Time to get some experience points!”

“Is this a game to you?” Noctis hissed through his teeth.

“Sort of,” Prompto tried to brush it off. It’s more like life or death, actually. The economy is rough, he’ll literally die if he gets fired right now. “Just trying to level up here, dude.”

 

* * *

 

“Good night,” the Prince mumbled next to him. They were both tucked in the same bed of a roadside caravan. The day was jam-packed full of adventures, and he was sure to have them recorded to show to Square Enix. They might use the gameplay footage for promotional videos. The pictures he took on his camera (screenshots, if he was honest) served the same purpose. Those photos slowly became Prompto’s treasures. 

“Yep! Nighty-night, Noct,” Prompto’s smile lingered as he closed his eyes and went to sleep. His vision faded to black.

Prompto lifted his arms, hands on both sides of the head and lifted the VR helmet off of his head. He let out a sigh as he was finally free of its weight. But it wasn’t a sigh of relief. Instead of the world of adventure he spent more of his life in than reality, he was greeted with an empty apartment.

An empty life made vibrant the moment he donned his helmet.

His father was always either out of town or at work. His mother left him years ago when he was a baby. He only knew her face from pictures. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that the only one who lived in this place was _him_. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that if he dropped dead in this house, no one would notice. No one would care.

He made his way to the kitchen where this afternoon’s leftover takeout was still sitting in the fridge. Microwaving it will do for dinner. He passed by a mirror; his pudgy reflection the complete opposite of the body he’s so used to in the game. Glasses, matted hair, and a round belly.

The smile he wore was left behind in the world of Final Fantasy.

 

* * *

 

The night breeze would’ve felt chilly if he could feel tiny details of the game’s world. Prompto’s feet dangled off the edge of the motel rooftop, right next to his best friend. Somehow, the conversation just became too real.

“I used to be super shy. Couldn’t talk to people,” Prompto couldn’t believe he was saying this. Somehow, everything just felt easier to admit online. “No surprises, but… I had no friends.”

He gave an awkward laugh and thought of Noct, Ignis and Gladio. “At least, not real ones.” The laughter disappeared, and the memory of an empty apartment surfaced. “I was always alone.” 

“That’s what’s been bugging you?” Noctis asked slowly.

“I mean, when you look at me, you wouldn’t think that I’m anything but a fun-loving, happy go lucky joker,” Prompto tried to put a smile in his voice as he said those lines. It was a habit, really. The sunshine personality everyone loved to see in game. “But that isn’t the real me. Behind all the quips and laughs… I’m a mess of hang ups.”

Noctis waited patiently for him to continue. He’s always been a good listener. Maybe that’s why Prompto felt so attached to him, the way he could pour his heart out at this moment, despite keeping a secret Noctis would never understand. He’s a great friend. The best Prompto’s ever had.

“But when we hang out,” Prompto nearly chocked out the last few lines. “I have so much fun, that I forget what I’m _not_.”

He’s not a part of this world. He never will be.

“Then reality hits me like a splash of cold water,” Prompto stared off into the distance, not confident enough to meet his friend’s gaze. He thought of paycheques in the mail, awkward encounters with people he used to know and long lonely nights. He thought of meals by himself, the silence of a household and the void in his heart. “And I remember I don’t belong. But I want to." 

Noctis gave half a chuckle. “Overthinking things much?”

“You think so?” Prompto couldn't help but smile sadly. “But I’m just…”

Empty? Worthless? A beta tester that would rather hang out with NPCs?

“Think what you will,” Noctis broke the silence. “But you belong here. You’ll always be one of **_us_**.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto recognized him instantly. An eccentric, attention seeking character that deliberately tampered with new functions. He’d even spotted the man go out of bounds, or pass through blockades that should’ve been blocked to normal players. This man, whoever he was, had taken direct control of the NPC that should’ve been the Chancellor of Niflheim.

A _hacker_.

“I’ll be sending a report,” Prompto hissed, but his hands stayed raised. The ban functions weren’t working on him. Even pumping the man full of bullets didn’t work; the character was under some sort of infinite HP exploit, effectively giving him immortality. “Don’t think your IP address isn’t being tracked.” 

Before he could get another word out, a kick sent him reeling backwards and tumbling off the moving train. The last thing he saw was blue eyes staring into his own in pure horror and the words:

_You have been disconnected from the server_

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure how to begin. Prompto suddenly became too aware of his arms, dangling by his sides like sacks of meat. One of those arms held his authorization as a moderator; he could get in anywhere in the game with it. How would he explain to them that _he_ was real, and that _they_ weren’t?

With a shaky voice, and tears that clouded his vision as he peered into the world given by the VR headset, he started:

“So, MTs… they’ve got these codeprints just like I do.”

If they said something, Prompto didn’t hear it because the next words weighed the whole world to him. He wanted to apologize to Noctis, for making him a liar.

“As it turns out, I’m one of **_them_**.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long overdue update for this story!! 
> 
> Since I initially hadn't been expecting to continue it, this chapter starts off when Prompto gets disconnected from the server. The writing style is different from the first chapter, but that's because it started off as an answer to someone's questions and later went wayyyy out of hand... and remained unedited for the longest time. 
> 
> Sorry again for the wait!

Prompto suddenly wakes up in his room. The headset is busted. He’s tried everything and he can’t log back into the game. He thinks that the hacker might have somehow short-circuited the wiring, but he’s not sure. His spare won’t let him log on either. His stomach twists at the sinking feeling that’s begun to settle in his stomach.

He’s locked out of his account and he's running out of time.

His friends have gone without him, and if Ardyn can do all that to his account, then what could he do to the others? They’re just bits of data, if they’re hacked then..? 

Prompto swallows down the thought, and runs out of his apartment. There’s only one place his feet would take him and it’s to the traditional-style home of another moderator. He’s reduced to a sweaty, hyperventilating mess by the time he’s knocked on the door.

A thousand thoughts of the things that could go wrong, mainly involving his friends being gone forever, run through his head before a stoic Asian woman greets him. 

“Hi,” Prompto gasped. Every year of junk food and lack of physical activity dragged down his every breath. “I’ve got.” He breathes again. “An emergency.” 

After forcing the whole story out, he feels like puking. He can’t remember the last time he’s had a conversation that long with anyone, and the fear that pushed him to do so only made him more sick. He so used to communicating through the mind-link of the headset that he's not even sure if his mouth formed all the words right. All of a sudden he doesn’t really know why he came here, to her doorstep. Cor would’ve been a better choice, since they somewhat knew each other. But he’s never even spoken to her, not even in game.

The woman, Gentiana, didn't even bat an eye. She calmly showed him to her computer room—far more advanced than Prompto could have ever expected. Her fingers flew across the keyboard gracefully, with the precision of a pianist. It’s no wonder she’s one of the very few Square Enix hired for this task, she’s incredible at what she does.

It doesn’t take long for Ardyn to appear frozen on screen. The hacker’s lost control. 

The sight of it is all Prompto needs to snatch the headset out of her hands and log in. Any other day, and he wouldn’t have the guts to do that, but he had to know what happened to his friends.

He just had to know.

Prompto released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in once the loading screen faded, and he found himself outside the ruins of the Keep. He thinks this is the route where Noctis was supposed to go solo, but he doesn’t care about the rules. 

He just wants to see his best friend, and that’s what got him blindly tackling every daemon that spawned in the tower. But he’s there too early and Ardyn—Ardyn’s back online. 

Even with Gentiana’s support, he’s helpless against him. Ardyn’s too good, too skilled, with an unnatural talent at manipulating the game. Every time he’s taken down, he rises up again with his glitching body. It’s oozing black void and riddled with holes. He's a manifestation of everything going _wrong_  with the game, but Prompto thinks he's having too much fun to care about the appearance of his character.

The grin he wears as he locks up Prompto makes it a fact. 

Prompto doesn’t know how much time passes. He can’t log out. He can’t transport himself to one of the player bases in Lucis. All the functions are disabled and he wonders if Gentiana was freaking out on the other end, considering his real body can’t wake from the game.

Probably not.

It’s Gentiana. 

The mental image of her as a meme—yeah, the “This is Fine” meme with the dog and the burning room, except Gentiana’s the dog and the room is all of Eos, is almost enough to cheer him up. But there are cuts all over his skin, and the bruises have blossomed into purple, and the sensitivity is turned up way too high for him to feel anything but pain. 

Then the latches release, and he falls on something soft. Softer than the restraints at least, and vaguely warm.

“ _Prompto_.” 

The voice makes him snap back to reality. At least, the virtual one he’s in right now.

“Noct,” Prompto whimpers, upon meeting his eyes. He almost afraid to wrinkle the Prince’s clothes, as if the action could distort his data. But when fingers run through his hair he breaks down, shamelessly repeating his name over, and over again, even if the others were watching. He’s grasping at Noctis’ clothes tightly enough to leave marks on skin, and burying his face deeper into his neck as far as he could press. 

Prompto can’t feel his tears, but he’s sure they’re there. The skin he’s touching is like silicone to his cheeks; all smooth-rendering and ambiguous structure. He knows it’s not quite real, but the soothing whispers to his ear, and the equally tight hug damn make it feel like it is.

It takes a while for him to calm down. And even then he’s not ready to explain.

So he guides them around the Keep. When they get to a door with an all too familiar lock, Prompto knows he can’t keep his secret any longer.

He wasn’t sure how to begin. Prompto suddenly became too aware of his arms, dangling by his sides like sacks of meat. One of those arms held his authorization as a moderator; he could get in anywhere in the game with it. How would he explain to them that he was real, and that they weren’t?

With a shaky voice, and tears that clouded his vision as he peered into the world given by the VR headset, he started: 

“So, MTs… they’ve got these codeprints just like I do.”

If they said something, Prompto didn’t hear it because the next words weighed the whole world to him. He wanted to apologize to Noctis, for making him a liar. 

“As it turns out, I’m one of _them_.”

Prompto had to start all the way from the beginning. He talked about players. The MTs, the moderators, the game itself. He began to question whether or not they were even capable of understanding the concept of being in a game, when they gave him questioning looks. Actually, forget _capacity_. If someone came up to him and told him that he was living in a world within another world that could be edited, he’d be giving the same look Gladio has right now. Hell, Ignis found a way to glare at him even though he was _blind_. 

It's the _you-are-fucked-in-the-head_ look. It doesn’t help that he actually did get beaten by Ardyn, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he physically looked like he sustained some kind of brain damage.

But Noct. Noct just stares, and his lips pull ever so slightly. He’s got the same look when he talked about his father back in Lucis. 

“I know,” Noctis finally said. 

“You…” Prompto starts, but takes a step back. Out of all the possible responses, that was one he didn’t expect to hear. “You _what?_ Huh??”

“It’s because of the Crystal,” Noctis explained. “It’s the core of this world. A chrysalis, to the soul of the planet.”

The words don’t fully register. Soul? _Core??_ He’s still stuck on the part where Noctis _knows_. 

“It makes all things possible,” Noctis continued. “The fighting, our inventory, everything. It’s not just a convenient analogy. I guess you could call it the operating system itself. It’s something the royal family has always been connected to and protected, or technically that’s how the story goes.”

“Now… I’m even more confused,” Prompto's downright _baffled_. The others don’t try to hide the pure shock on their faces, either. “Are you saying you’re like an anti-virus program, then? Wow. I just came up with a new nickname for you and it’s _Norton_ —“ 

“Uh, no,” Noctis rolls his eyes as he cuts him off. “I’m saying that I’m _aware_ because of my connection to the Crystal. Thought you would mention it back at the motel but I didn’t think you were ready. So I never brought it up.” He raised a hand to scratch his head. “But I meant every word. You’re my best friend. You’re one of us.”

“Unless you’d rather not be,” Ignis piped up.

“And _unless_ this is all some elaborate prank,” Gladio placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “You both have a shit ton of explaining to do.”

Prompto’s face sank. “Noct. Guys. I’m not really.” He swallows. “I first met you all when you had already left Insomnia. I didn’t meet Noct when we were fifteen. We’re.” He has to pause to steady his breath, and keep himself for breaking down altogether. “We’re not really best friends. It was all a story someone else put into your heads.” 

The lie tasted like bile coming out of his lips, because Noct _is_ his best friend. Even if his friendship was built upon a script someone had written in an office. All he’s done until now was pretend and he’s not sure what part is real. 

“I already told you I know,” Noctis said, firmly. “I don’t care if it was actually you or not that came over to my apartment and played video games all night with me.”

Prompto has a hard time believing it. It’s all virtual reality; his friendships. Just like Noctis’ emotions. It’s not real. None of this is. This unconditional friendship is something some programmer ingrained into him when they decided _Prince Noctis_ would be the type of character that would brave Zegnautus Keep alone for him.

_This friendship is not real._

“I don’t care if you were never the one who sat next to me in school,” Noctis continued. "Or if you actually became athletic just to say hi to me."

Prompto’s brain denied the words. His mind was reeling. He has to remind himself it’s not real, but it feels so good to hear them with Noct’s voice that he’s starting not to care.

“Prompto,” Noctis started again, grabbing him by the arm and startling him back into focus. “My best friend is the one who’s been fighting for me this whole time. He’s the one who’s crazy enough to tell me to jump off a balcony before fighting a _damn god_ , and catch me too. He's the one who got me up at god forsaken hours of the morning to take pictures of a _virtual_ woma—“

“Okay, okay,” Prompto interrupted. He couldn’t help but smile at that. “I get it. Thanks, Noct.” 

They stood in silence until Ignis spoke.

 “I hate to break the moment,” Ignis said, in a way where he probably wanted to break the moment a long time ago. “But our foe is still at large, and this is hardly the time nor the place. We can save the... _stories_ , for later.” 

“Uh, right,” Prompto flushed. He looked away.

Gladio looked to Noctis. “So, what’s the plan?”

“The same one we’ve had this whole time. Ardyn only has so much control because he’s in possession of the Crystal.” Noctis drew his blade and raised it just above the mechanical device in the room. “So we take the Crystal _back_.”

 

* * *

 

They left the throne room in a mess of broken machinery and disintegrating parts of MT characters that never fully quite loaded. One look at the MT’s jerky movements and Prompto knows what Ardyn’s done. He’s spawning avatars infinitely and coding them with a generic fighting sequence from an existing mob in the system. If he keeps this up, the server will crash—and then, what would happen to everyone living here? 

But Ardyn isn’t all-powerful. There’s Ravus, a minor character with a simpler AI compared to the others and Ardyn still couldn’t fully hack him. It must take up all of the hacker’s time, just controlling the character known as Chancellor Izunia. It must be why the others are fine—they’re too much for him to hack. Especially with Gentiana at his heels.

They’re going to be fine.

But Prompto can’t feel relieved. There’s a nagging feeling at the back of his head that makes him feel uneasy. But what could it be? Clearing the throne room and beating Ravus was simple enough. They could take on whatever Ardyn throws at them.

His gut wrenches when he realizes: It’s going according to script. 

“Guys. Guys, _stop_ —“ Prompto damn near orders, and the others rock to a halt. “This is… Ardyn already knows exactly what we’re going to do at this rate. We’re following the story, we gotta—“

A horde of daemons spawned around them, each one taking form from shadows, and covered with glitches.

“Argh!” Prompto cried, throwing his hands up and frustratingly summoning his guns. “Of course this was gonna happen after we beat Ravus!”

“So what happens after we beat these punks?” Gladio asked, raising his broadsword over his shoulder.

“Well, Noct gets to the Crystal and—“ He’s cut off when a daemon attacks him and he has to block.

Ignis takes the kill. “That’s precisely our intention. Have Noct reach the Crystal.” 

“Yeah, but—“ 

“No use changing the story then,” Noctis grunts out as he tosses a Blizaga into the crowd. He’s running past frozen monsters before anyone can say otherwise. “It’ll be fine! All I need to do is touch the Crystal, and I can use it! Keep me covered!”

Prompto shot a flying enemy down before turning to scream: “No!! Noct! If you do that you’ll..!”

But Noctis is already gone. He’s speeding past daemons and pressed on beyond the gate, just a hair before it slammed shut. 

The last thing the Prince’s retainers see of him is a hand with the Ring of the Lucii disappearing into the Crystal.

 

* * *

 

When Prompto opens his eyes, Hammerhead is ablaze with artificial light, and the stars in the sky are gone. They're replaced by a dark particulate raining down, like soot, and the only light that can pierce through the haze is the pale light of the moon.

“Did it feel like ten years to you guys?” Prompto asks into the darkness. He knows that the others, save for Noctis, have spawned behind him. 

“I fought every damn day in this hell,” Gladio responds, a second set of footsteps accompanying him. “Wasn’t it like that for you?” 

Prompto shook his head as he faced them. “I had enough time to grab a glass of water and come back before everything finished loading.”

The two grew quiet. Gods they looked so _good_ older. Next time he sees Tetsuya, he’s going to have to thank him for coming up with designs that somehow perfectly combined the right amount of _rugged_ and _elegant_ to them both.

“You were here during the course of this decade,” Ignis finally said. There was a slow precision to his words. “We helped build up Lestallum. We went on hunts together.”

“Really?” Prompto said, surprised. He’s always wondered how his existence fit into their storyline. “What were we fighting, then? And when? How did those hunts go? Did we hunt here in Duscae?” 

“Seriously?” Gladio snapped. “How could you forget, you nearly got yourself killed in one of them! We fought a— we fought… Huh.” He shook his head. “Iggy, what did we fight again?”

Ignis’ face grew grim as he began to realize the limits of their memory. “The memory seems to elude me as well.”

Gladio closed his eyes. “So those fights never really happened. And neither did all those years.”

“Mn,” was the only sound that came from Prompto. He didn’t know what he else could possibly say. He was saved from having to offer some explanation, or maybe even consolation, when Talcott’s truck entered the gates.

The vehicle came to a full stop right in front of them, the roar of the engine dying as a man stepped out from the passenger seat. He’s covered in grime and daemon blood, but no amount of filth could cover the regality he now possessed. Chiseled features made mature by the fullness of his beard, and a body that no longer suited the short-sleeved attire he wore. This man is a _King_ , and without a doubt, he’s the man they swore to protect. 

“Hey,” Noctis greeted a little too nonchalantly, like he only last saw them a few minutes ago. Maybe he was staring at a loading screen too. 

“Hey?” Gladio repeated. There’s a nervous hope in clinging onto his voice when he asks: “That’s all you have to say for yourself after _all this time?”_

Noctis gives a re-assuring half-smile when he emphasizes those last few words, and doesn’t answer. The decade-long World of Ruin is the only truth the others knew, and he wouldn’t rob them of that. 

Ignis tries too, for Gladio’s sake. “You kept us waiting.”

“Well,” Noctis clapped Ignis on the shoulder and blue light swirled at his fingertips, then coursed through Ignis’ body, reaching up and feeding into the scars on his eyes. It isn’t until those burn marks began to recede that Prompto clues in on what’s going on.

“Are you…?” Prompto’s voice trails off when the green of Ignis’ pupils return and their eyes meet. Not just for pretend, like Ignis does where he gazes at the approximate location of a voice. His eyes lock on to his, then to Gladio’s and finally falls on to Noctis’.

There's no doubt about it. Ignis can _see_ again.

“I…” Ignis runs a hand down his face, all the while looking around in dazed wonder. He’s too stunned for words just like the rest of them.

Noctis lets go of him. “We have some catching up to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some trivia:
> 
> He does meet Aranea, like he did in his DLC. He had a similar conversation, about not being “like them”, but he doesn’t try to burn his wrist at this point. Aranea is also an AI in this universe, and the fact that an AI programmed to be his enemy was willing to help him out was so strange that it made him realize that the possibility the guys could think on their own.
> 
> Cor is the one who hired Prompto in the first place, and he was picked because of his ability in playing first person shooters. Before this position, he was a professional gamer and won tournaments constantly. 
> 
> The FFXV plot is actually different in this AU. It was intended by the Square Enix of this universe to have Emperor Iedolas as the main bad guy, with the Chancellor being just as insignificant as Verstael and any other Niflheim boss. However the player “Ardyn” decided to hack the character “Chancellor Izunia”, and that’s how this whole plot began. 
> 
> The server timeline follows Noctis’ actions. If you were just a lowly beta tester doing random missions when Noctis decided to touch that Crystal, you would be slammed with a “server closed for maintenance” notification until The World of Ruin could fully load. And then you’d have to do your missions in eternal night, yay. C: However, players can also choose to play a standalone version of the game, and progress through the story plot on their own. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! c: I hope to get the next chapter up soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on posting it all in one go, but the chapter got too long… so now you get two more instead of one! :DD Yay! Sorry for the wait! 
> 
> Expect the next chapter to be much longer. :)

Prompto trips for what feels like the eighth time in the past three minutes. If he was in any other game, they wouldn’t even be any rocks to trip over; just some holographic rubble disguising a flat surface. He’s reminded all over again the extent of realism applied to the game; down to the veins bulging when Gladio swings his sword to the cloud of dust Ignis brews when he lands from an attack.

He squints his eyes in focus for moment. Tries to raise the brightness in the game’s settings only to realize it’s already been maxed out. They’d limit it to stimulate night, but how do they expect the long-range players to cope? By randomly firing and thanking the developers there’s no friendly fire?

The battle is finished soon enough, and he makes his way over to Noctis. He’s aged well, but his older body donned with the King’s Raiment brought an image to his memory. For all their long winded explanations back at the campfire before arriving in Insomnia, there was one thing Noctis should’ve told them. Something vaguely mentioned by players who had completed the standalone version of the game, and only after typing in big, bold letters: _SPOILER ALERT._

“Hey, Noct?” Prompto began, but shrunk back. Maybe it’s best left unspoken. “I, uh. Actually… nevermind.”

Noctis glanced over at him, then heads towards the others again. “If you say so." 

It only takes them a few steps until Prompto tries again:

“Are you,” He gulps. _Just spit it out._ “Are you still going to die?”

That’s when Noctis stops, and lets Gladio and Ignis tend to each other’s wounds a distance away, just far enough not to hear their conversation. The features on his face drop the same way a long sigh does, when he recites: “A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the Light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past. Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own.” He looks to Prompto. “Is that what you’re talking about?”

Prompto gave a tight nod. 

“Prompto,” Noctis breathed out the name. “This world is _designed_. There’s so many—fucking plot holes to my story. What exactly is there left to receive, when I’ve already received all the Royal Arms, and all the Light the Crystal has to offer? That thing is just a rock now. Where is all this power coming from, if not the Crystal or the Six?”

Prompto blanked. “You, uh, got a point there buddy. Maybe… your ancestors forgot to give you a gift or something?”

“I thought the powers they gave me were the Royal Arms,” Noctis said. He looked to his hand. “And this ring. You’re telling me they’ve got more power to give? And I coincidentally can’t get it until now, even though I visited their graves?” 

Well, that's just game mechanics, isn't it? Prompto simply accepted it. He's so used to things like this happening in games—but to Noctis, this is reality.

Prompto lit up, remembering that other AIs tend to fill in the blanks themselves. “Have you tried asking around? Maybe Iggy knows something.”

Noctis shook his head. “I already did. Told him the prophecy... minus the death part.”

“And?”

“He said it might be because the throne acts like some kind of trigger,” Noctis said. “Reacting with the power I gained from the Crystal and completes the link to my ancestors. It sort of unlocks the power I should already have.” 

“Trigger?” Prompto repeated. “That… kind of sounds like…” 

“Yep,” Noctis said, in a voice best used for pensive talks on top of motel roofs under the stars. “If this world really is just a game, then that sounds just like a cutscene trigger. It’s not like there’s actually any more power to give. It’s just a milestone. Something I’ll have to inevitably face, even if there’s nothing more beyond that point.”

Prompto opened his mouth, willed himself to ease the tension, to say something other than a morbid joke like: _The credits roll right after_. He chose to shut his mouth instead.

“Don’t worry,” Noctis smiled. He knocked on Prompto’s chest. “All I have to do is not sit on the throne.”

Not sit on the throne.

It sounds so simple but that—this whole thing is anything but. Now that Noctis had full control over the Crystal, the core of this world, what does that mean for him? What has his best friend become?

 

* * *

 

The rest stops within Insomnia aren’t as cozy as the camps they used to set up. It’s small, sure, like a janitor’s closet that conveniently had bunk beds in them. There’s no chance of their sleeping bags rolling closer in their sleep, and no chance of giggling over stupid stuff in the middle of the night. The glorified steel pens with a mattress on it forces them all apart, and Prompto can’t stand another second if it.

He grips the cold bar and pulled his head past it.

“Psst, Noct,” Prompto whispered. “You awake? _Nooooct_.”

Which was a stupid question, Prompto thought, especially concerning Noctis of all people. His head had already hit the pillow again when he heard a disgruntled groan and the rustling of sheets.

“Prom?” Noctis whispered back. He looked up from the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes, and it’s like he’s twenty all over again. “It’s late. You’re not gonna log off?”

“I was worried you were acting too normal abou—wait, what?” Prompto stopped himself as the question _really_ sunk in. “You can tell when I log off?” 

This whole self-awareness thing was freaking him out more and more by the second.

Noctis yawned. “Of course I can tell. One minute, it’s my loud best friend, goofing off at camp, petting chocobos, and not really doing anything productive—“

Prompto threw his pillow, which Noctis grabbed and laid claim. It didn’t seem like he was going to give it back either, even when Prompto tip-toed down to the bottom bunk and tried to pry it off his sleep-hungry hands. 

“You know,” Prompto hummed, resigning himself to sitting down at the edge of Noctis’ mattress. “You don’t seem all that bothered by all this.”

“Of course this bothers me,” Noctis replied, voice muffled by the pillow. “It’s been bothering me for a long time. What kind of world is it, when my best friend gets possessed by some generic robot on long car rides, and rest stops? Where he mechanically sets up the tent, carries the groceries, preps the table and everyone acts like nothing about him’s changed?” 

That's right. A simple code takes over his character while the real him is out there, in the real world, washing his own dishes and cleaning his own apartment. Sleeping in his own empty room during the night, because he can’t be hooked on the game 24/7. He can’t always be with them, no matter how much they both yearned for it.

“I’m sorry,” Prompto said, and he meant the words with all his heart. 

“It’s okay,” Noctis murmured, hugging the pillow tighter. “You can’t help it, and I only notice because of _this_.” He smooths his father’s ring. “I’m the only one with these abilities, and Ardyn’s threatening the world we live in. What else can I do?” 

A playful grin made its way into Prompto’s face. “You could give me my pillow back?”

Noctis glared, and placed the pillow between his hands. He squeezed, until the bump of cotton bounced back at his fingertips in a flurry of feathers, and Prompto thought he made his pillow explode—until he saw that there was something more structured within the mess. What the hell? Is that a—

“ _Chocobo?_ ” Prompto cried.

Then Prompto yelled at the same time the baby bird screeched, and Gladio yelled at them both to shut up. Somehow, it’s a commotion past midnight that gets Prompto smiling even after he’s tucked away his headset in a room that only had traces of himself.

 

* * *

 

Prompto has to crane his neck all the way up, past the tip of the Citadel, to see the true extent of Noctis’ new abilities. He’s been able to do all sorts of impossible things effortlessly, defying every law of physics that came to mind.

But Prompto never expected _this_. 

Noctis’ influence charges the air like static. It corrupts his vision, reducing it to a technicolor hum in some moments or a ringing in his ears that seemed to pierce through the depths of his skull. Like a TV with no signal. Except he was wired into it, and Prompto forced himself through the pain. Maybe, just maybe, Noctis would _die_ in these moments. Of all the times he’s had to leave the server, this was one where he needed to stay by Noctis’ side even if it felt like his existence was being torn apart. 

Twenty—no, closer to thirty blades littered the battleground, each the size of the first three stories of the building. They pierce the ground, enough to cut through the depth of concrete and scattering to dust the earth that lay buried underneath. Each one is from his own Armiger, materializing through his will alone.

The Axe of the Conqueror, a thousand times its own size slams into the entrance with a resounding crack. The steps give away, and Ardyn falters—but not for long. He summons his own arsenal, surrounding him with violent protection as his corrupted body lifts up, feet raised above the ground and intent on entering the Citadel even with a giant axe in his way. Like it couldn’t stop him.

Ardyn pressed a hand onto the blade, and blessed steel seemed to disintegrate by his touch. Just like that, the hacker’s lips tugged into a drawn out smirk, marveling his own ability.

He’s deleting data, Prompto realized, heart thrumming. Everything here is data. _His friends are data._

Gladio was already upon him, an entire broadsword’s distance away, always out of reach for Ardyn to make physical contact. But then Ignis swoops low for one of his combos, lance disappearing into ether in favour of his dagger. It’s too close. The blade cuts into flesh, tearing it apart but dealing no damage at all. 

Ardyn reached out to him, wickedly grinning despite the relentless assault of the two.

Prompto panicked. He lifted up his gun, adjusting it as the static flickered in his vision and _shot_. The bullet whizzes just below the base of Ardyn’s neck—not enough to stop him, but enough to make him stumble, and that’s all it takes to let a blue blur warp behind the hacker.

Noctis grabs him by the collar, strangling him with that stupid scarf of his as he’s pulled back, away from Ignis. He’s tossed to the floor, a thundaga rippling from a red-soled boot as it crashes into his robes.

A mangled cry escapes Ardyn’s lips. It’s a noise that’s laced with pain, chopping with every jolt of electricity until it falters into staggered breaths… then _laughter_.

The victorious gleam in his eyes drew out a scream from Prompto, as those fingers reached out, trembling, and grabbed Noctis’ foot. 

“Checkmate,” Ardyn drawled, knuckles white with his grip. “The King has been cornered.”

The cackle of blue lightning stopped.

Prompto struggled to focus through the haze, and realized that Noctis didn’t dematerialize the same way the axe did. There wasn’t any change to either of them. The King of Lucis was still there, and Ardyn’s smile was not.

“You’ve absorbed the Crystal,” Ardyn gasped. His eyes grew wide before they narrowed again in irritation. “You’ve made the system a part of yourself.” 

“That’s right,” Noctis snarled, kicking his hands off of him. “I _am_ this world, Ardyn. The control I have is something you, a person behind a screen, will never be able to replicate.”

He drew another blade out of ether. He willed it to duplicate a hundred-fold, and raised them to the skies to replace the stars of Lucis.

“You play by my rules now. This world’s rules,” Noctis continued. His father’s ring pulsated with magic as he directed a palm in the hacker’s direction. “And I’m telling you to _get out of my home_.”

And at the King’s command, the heavens themselves came crashing down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please be advised that this is a trigger warning for this chapter**
> 
> My 2018 resolution is to finish my unfinished works. AND SO. I PRESENT TO YOU A VERY LENGTHY CHAPTER 4. 8D
> 
> For those who have stuck with me from the very beginning, way before timed hunts and FFXV:Comrades were even announced... thank you very much and I hope you enjoy! :D

Dust was scattered everywhere in the Citadel. Now that Ardyn was gone, every trace of him scattered into oblivion, that’s all that’s left. Dust, and the barest hint of weeds struggling to push themselves from the dirt-clad walls of the palace.

The specks of light, little dust motes, parted their way for Prompto as he walked through the halls. He’s made a couple wrong turns. He’s never been here before, but maybe the ‘Prompto’ in his friends’ memories have. 

But the game couldn’t have possibly been so intricate as to design all fifty floors of Noctis’ home. More often than not, there was one simple hallway for Prompto to follow and it doesn’t take him long to reach a door that was only seen in fantasy games, or CG movies. It’s at least three times as tall as he is, coloured with a deep black that seemed untouched by time and held by the intricate fingers of ornate steel.

He pushed it open, and was greeted by silence.

An eerie sort of dawn filtered through broken ceilings in the form of hazy pink light, not quite ready to shine, complete with the strange absence of birds chirping. There’s no background music. No sound effects except for the cautious footsteps Prompto took towards a King standing a clear distance before his throne. Nothing. At the end of it all, across a long stretch of dark marble, stood Noctis. Like a world on pause, he was taut and still before figures that lay before him, hands tight in their grasp against one another.

But of course, there wouldn’t be a soundtrack for a scene that wasn’t supposed to exist. A scene where Noctis is alive and bathed in dawn. 

“You’ve got the Crystal’s power now,” Prompto paused at his side. He glanced down at the defiled corpses laid at the foot of the throne. Pale, and coming apart at the edges where chains once tore into flesh. “You could do anything to their data, y’know. _Anything_.”

A morning breeze tousled their hair, quietly whistling between mangled steel and corroded stone. Whispering the question Prompto didn’t dare to ask.

“…I know,” Noctis sighed and knelt. He brushed a strand of Lunafreya’s hair. “I already fixed Iggy’s eyes. But I can’t do anything for them. They don’t exist. Not really.”

Prompto looks at him with confusion. “But uh, aren’t… you… …um??”

Noctis shook his head.

“They’re people that only exist in scenes and flashbacks,” He explained. “There’s no actual AI running in them. No— _soul_.” He pulled his hand away and tightened it into a fist. “Even if I were to create a one just for them, it’s not the same. It would be how I imagine Dad and Lunafreya to be. They would be designed, just the way I want. I don’t think I could do it.”

“Don’t think you could make an AI for them?” Prompto asked, and instead of answering, Noctis mended their clothes and restored the rosy tint to their skin. They’re healed until they don’t resemble corpses at all; merely sleeping figures that have yet to rise with the sun.

“No, I could probably do that,” Noctis said. His hands lingered on his father’s. “It’s—it’s just that… I would have to _program_ them to love me.”

The words come with subdued frustration. Anything in this world could be changed by Noctis’ whim, and yet it’s still not enough. The Chosen King has everything, yet nothing he ever asked for. 

His family. 

 _Love_.

The thoughts summon a wave of loneliness to tide into his bones, cold and relentless, bringing with it a deluge that threatens to drown Prompto from within, a sinking feeling within his chest that he could only categorize as a hole in his heart. The feeling drains into him, washing away rational thought until he’s left with an ache in his throat and clouded vision.

He lets go of a shaky breath. Blinks.

“But you could still do it if you really wanted to,” Prompto said, quietly. “You could do anything, huh. …Noct?”

“Hm?” 

“You remember what I said?” Prompto asked, finding interest in the broken walls. “Back in the Keep?”

Noctis shrugged. “You said a lot of things.”

“I’m talking about the part when I said I’d be forever by your side,” Prompto continued. “There’s nothing more I want to do than that. Since you’ve got the Crystal, you can do everything Ardyn could. There was a time when he made it so that I couldn’t log out or anything. You can do it too, right? Keep me here?”

Noctis doesn’t answer him right away. Instead, he eyes him searchingly, up and down, in a similar manner he had done in their make-believe history of high school.

“Why do you want to know?” He asked him carefully.

Prompto bit his lip, choosing to look at the tips of his shoes. “What if… I wanted you to do that? Keep me in this world forever. I’ll never leave.” He gave Noctis the best smile he could. “It’ll be like a non-stop adventure!”

The smile seems to have the opposite effect, as Noctis’ features twist.

“Do you realize what you’re asking me to do?” Noctis stands up now, turning to face him. “You won’t be able to go back. You’re asking me to end your life—there, wherever you actually are. You’re asking me to…to…” 

He doesn’t get the word out. Instead, he places both hands on Prompto’s shoulders, studying him desperately.

Prompto swallows. “It would make me happy.”

“Happy,” Noctis repeated dumbly, eyebrows scrunching and chest rising from the breaths he’s trying to contain. His eyes were drawn to the ground where the others lay dead on ruined carpets. “You think dying will make you happy?” 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Prompto continued. “There’s nothing waiting for me out there—here I have everything! I have friends, I have a place to belong, and, and I have you.” His voice breaks. “That’s the best part, Noct. There will never be anything like what I have here—“

“So you want me to help you…?” Noctis can’t even force the words from his lips. “Prompto, you don’t realize it, but there isn’t anything like _you_ either. You find the best in every situation. You brighten up everywhere you go. If friends are all you want, you’ll be able to find them. I know you can.” 

“I know. I-It’s really not a lot,” Prompto hiccups. “But it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want to make _this_ my reality. Please, Noct.”

“No,” Noctis spat the word out. “I am not going to hurt you, Prompto.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Prompto told him. He’s grasping at those arms now, he realizes. He doesn’t care if it’s plush at the wrong parts, where bones should be. He doesn’t care if the cotton of the shirt feels like plastic to his fingers. This is real enough. “I’m not gonna die. I’m just going to start a life he—“ 

“No,” Noctis repeats again. He takes a step forward, heels tapping on marble floors as he crushes him into an embrace. “No. That’s not how it works. I won’t do it. I don’t know what’s going on where you are, but I won’t do it. Tell me how I can help you—just, just, not like _that_.” 

 _No_.

Prompto’s head echoed the word, each one louder and heavier than the first, leaving his ears ringing and crushing his chest like he’s being pounded.

_No._

_No, no, no, no._

Without the sound of symphonies hidden in the background of the world, he can only listen to his own mind. He can only breathe between the reiterations and it takes him a moment to realize that the tightness on his skin was his palms squeezing himself, holding himself together. 

“Don’t send me back out there,” Prompto whispered, with increasing hysteria. “Please. I don’t want to go back to my apartment. I don’t want to be alone. Noct. I don’t— _I don’t_...” 

Noctis pulled away, but his hands grab him by the shoulders. It makes Prompto curl into himself, his own hold making up for the loss of contact. Between his lungs threatening to explode and his knees trembling to keep himself upright, he knows that if he lets go he might just fall apart.

“Breathe,” Noctis instructed, trying to give him space without letting him go. Prompto hopes he never lets go. “Just breathe. It’s okay.”

Prompto tries to focus on his words, but loses it to the ringing of his ears.

Maybe, maybe this was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have mentioned anything to Noctis. 

Look at him, getting all worked up over something so dumb. He’s losing his mind over—over what? People not talking to him in real life? Living by himself? He’s so stupid. So, so stupid. Some people don’t even have homes, and if he actually wanted to, he could talk to—someone. His neighbours, anyone. He’s just weak and he has no right to feel sad over something insignificant like this. Yet here he is, making such an awful request, and dragging Noctis into something so dumb. He can’t be sad. He can’t feel this way over something so small. He won't allow himself. But the tears fall anyway, and he can’t stop it.

Broken; that’s what they would call people like him. 

Fractured and damaged, and doesn’t quite work like everyone else. Normal people would be able to deal with such a minor issue right? Prompto can’t even deal with this. 

He shouldn’t have said anything. Now Noctis knows how broken he is. How much of that cheerful exterior is fake, like the game of _Let’s Pretend_ that’s been so overused in the game he’s in now. Now Noctis knows how stupid he is, and he’s failed him, just like he’s failed everyone—

 “—ompto. _Prompto_. Hey,” Noctis cuts into his thoughts, and it’s only now that Prompto can feel the quickening of his breath all over again. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright. I speak for all of us when I say that, as much as we want you here in this world, we want your happiness too. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“You wouldn’t like the real me,” Prompto muttered, voice wavering. He focused on Noctis’ hands to keep him steady. “I don’t even look anything like this. I look like a failure.”

“So? Who cares?” Noctis said. “Appearance isn’t everything. My King’s Knight character looks like he’d challenge kids to a card game duel, and we both still like him.”

Prompto laughed.

Oh, how the sound of it felt so forced.

Noctis held onto his gaze, a calm against wild, as he reminded him: “You’re one of us.”

Prompto’s mouth hangs open.

He feels drained all of a sudden. He can’t find the words to respond to that, or the emotion he’s supposed to be feeling. A part of him thirsts for it; that validation, that acceptance. Yet another part of him denies it—that he can’t possibly be loved. That this can’t possibly be true, because no-one wants Prompto Argentum, and if they did it would be because a program commanded them to do so.

“This world will always be your sanctuary,” Noctis told him, steeling his grip. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be here for you.”

And it feels like he’s breaking all over again, for a different reason, cracking in new ways.

“I think,” Prompto finally said. “I think I have to go. I’m sorry. I'm really sorry, Noct.” 

Before Noctis could protest, he closed his eyes and willed himself to leave the world where the kindness felt too much to take.

 

* * *

 

Prompto had been ignoring the string of private messages, choosing instead to stare blankly at his screen, but this one in particular made him stare at the notification until it faded. His head was resting at the cool oak of the dinner table, feeling his cheeks vibrate with every ignored message as they resounded through the wood. He doesn't have the energy to move.

_User \null;; &.xv sent you a message!_

A splatter of invalid characters could only mean a severely messed up account, and one name in particular comes to mind when it comes to “severely messed up accounts”.

 _Ardyn_. 

Prompto sighed, unable to get rid of the thought that the hacker might be somehow involved. He opened the message.

> [\null;;&.xv] Hello?
> 
> [\null;;&.xv] Prompto??

He’s too tired to think much about the message, so he gives a generic reply: 

> [Moderator][Quicksilver] Please describe any glitches you are currently experiencing. An unscheduled server maintenance will be performed shortly due to the number of patches required after the World of Ruin. 

Three dotted lines jiggle at the bottom corner of his phone before the reply comes:  

> [\null;;&.xv] What?
> 
> [\null;;&.xv] I’m just checking to make sure you’re ok. Y’know. After what you said in the throne room.

Prompto stares at the message. The throne room.

_The throne room??_

He types so fast, it’s only thanks to autocorrect that it's coherent:

> [Moderator][Quicksilver] Omfg Noct??
> 
> [\null;;&.xv] Hey
> 
> [\null;;&.xv] Are you in your world rn?
> 
> [Moderator][Quicksilver] I am! How are you messaging me?
> 
> [\null;;&.xv] I tried to make a copy of that thing on your wrist, but it’s kind of
> 
> [Noctgar] There we go.
> 
> [Noctgar] You weren’t waking up no matter what I did.
> 
> [Noctgar] Sorry
> 
> [Noctgar] I was worried :(

It’s okay. It’s more than okay.

It feels so weird; seeing a denser version of his fingers type out a message to _Noctis_. Actual messages from his best friend feeding to him alongside the vague reflection of his plump cheeks on the screen. It’s like the line separating his online self and his true self was cut, and his friends have joined him in reality. If he can figure out how to link Noctis’ PM system to texts instead, it would be like getting messages from someone real.

The excitement is quick to be snuffed out. Guilt sinks in. How could he have thought that Noctis was only friendly to him because he was _scripted_ to be his best friend? When he's so obviously beyond the control of the developers?

Prompto bites his lip, tasting blood. It's not the first time today he's felt so stupid.  

> [Noctgar] Prompto?? You there?
> 
> [Noctgar] Are you okay?

His arm aches, in the places where he’d unconsciously grabbed onto them in the middle of the last game session. The bandages hiding the places where nails have dug into his skin brush against the desk when he types: 

> [Moderator][Quicksilver] I’m good. Thanks, Noct.

 

* * *

   

> [noctits] IT’S THE CHOCOBROS HOLY FUCK
> 
> [PU55Yd5tr0y5r] WTS > 25 Mega Phnx Down PM me
> 
> [phantomedge] I could 1 v 1 them with both hands tied behind my back
> 
> [Moderator][Quicksilver] A reminder to please refrain from engaging Noctis and his party as we are still testing their performance.
> 
> [final_hamtasy] f*** you piece of s*** mod
> 
> [noctits] PROMPTO I WOULD DIE FOR YOU
> 
> [noctits] MY SWEET SUNSHINE BOY
> 
> [PU55Yd5tr0y5r] WTS > 25 Mega Phnx Down PM me
> 
> [noctits] CINNAMON ROLL THAT MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS

Prompto grimaced. It’s not common knowledge for people to know that the character “Prompto” was an actual player, and even fewer knew which username “Prompto” went under. It's been long since debated by users in the forums, and the general consensus was that he was a hidden mod like [DiamondDust]. It would take someone with the skills of a _stalker_ to figure this out.

He wonders if extreme fans were ever aware of how unhealthy obsessions could be. It’s users like these who spend hours fantasizing over pretend-romances, writing stories and drawing things best kept hidden in the deep, dark corner of the internet.

Gods, there must be _fanfiction_ about him by now. 

“Is this Cor?” Noctis asked out loud, and held the screen of his phone to Gladio and Ignis, then to Prompto, unaware that the same chat was kept open in his peripherals. “Why didn’t he stop the one who was harassing you?”

> [PU55Yd5tr0y5r] WTS > 25 Mega Phnx Down PM me
> 
> [final_hamtasy] only p**** getting destroyed tonight is quicksilver
> 
> [final_hamtasy] no social life so he’s here every day wishing he got f***** instead
> 
> [PU55Yd5tr0y5r] WTS > 25 Mega Phnx Down PM me
> 
> [final_hamtasy] ill f*** u nice and good big p****
> 
> [Moderator][TheImmortal] _has silenced_ [PU55Yd5tr0y5r] _for 1 hour_. _Reason: No spam._

Prompto shrugged. “Probably expects me to take care of it if it gets bad. And it only gets worse if you try to stop them.” He caught an indignant violet in the blue of his iris. “…Noct, please don’t mess with other people’s accounts.”

Noctis’ eyes were plastered to the screen. “This guy’s harassing you.”

“I’m a mod,” Prompto waved away the disapproving stares from the others. “They do that sometimes. It’s okay guys, he’s just a troll.”

Something about the way they all tensed told Prompto that it was _not okay_ with them.

“Y’know,” Gladio began, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. “Something speaks louder than words.”

“There’s certainly more than one lesson we’re capable of teaching them,” Ignis added, tossing the last of the pots back in the Armiger and taking an elemental flask out instead.  

“We’re seriously doing this?” Prompto half-complained, but a smile had already found its way to his voice. He drew his gun from the armiger.

Whatever they’d replied to him, Prompto forgot it as soon as they dove into battle. None of the beta testers stood a chance.

 

* * *

 

It was a perfect, sunny day in Lestallum, and Ignis was watching Prompto peacefully lose his mind as he talked to a _wall_ in the hotel lobby. There’s no phone in his hands, or any visible headset. Just a nice, multi-patterned  _wall_.

"Thanks again for keeping all of this low-key," Prompto told the wall. "I know it's dangerous to even have the ability to give someone epilepsy, but it's only when he tries to log on here, right? And he's fine otherwise?" Silence. "...C'mon, you know Noct wouldn't abuse that. It's my job to watch them anyways. I'll make sure of it."

At the mention of his charge, Ignis focuses on the one-sided conversation, but it switches immediately.

“Oh uh, everything’s good,” Prompto continued. “Best part about working for Squeenix is that as long as I have the internet I can work. So now I’m actually travelling around the country taking photos for this magazine.”

The wall said nothing. Neither did the potted plant leaning against it.

“Yeah, but it might as well be minimum wage,” Prompto rolled his eyes. “It’s getting me out more and meeting more people though. It's good. Even started going on runs in the morning so I won’t be such a mess if I ever come running—“

He cuts off with a yelp as he was spun around by his shoulders.

“Prompto,” Ignis pulled him aside and examined his forehead. “Are you ill?”

Blonde lashes blinked. “I-I hope not?”

Ignis pressed a hand to the base of his neck for good measure. He’s already got the smelling salts out. “Can you describe this hallucination you’re experiencing?” 

“Hallucination?” Prompto asked quizzically, before his eyes widened. “Oh! Might be faster if I just show you.”

He shifted away from Ignis and summoned his camera from ether. The shutter snapped.

“Tah dah!” Prompto beamed, turning the display for him to see. An unfamiliar figure dressed in black robes was standing next to him, head tilted and a hand holding the peace sign. “This is Gentiana. She’s a hidden mod, so you can only see her when she’s online from another moderator’s account.” 

Ignis studied the picture for a moment. He raised a cautious hand to the air, and pressed a hand to the place where the woman should’ve been in the picture.

“Whoa!! Duuude, your hand just went through her _boob_!!” Prompto exclaimed, earning him the attention of a very confused concierge. The shutter snapped again. “Take it out, take it out!”

Ignis quickly retracted his hand and rubbed his temples, for lack of a better thing to do. “As long as everything’s alright… I’m not even going to ask.”

 

* * *

  

Noctis was dragged out of the Regalia listlessly, with the burdened eyes of a Dawn King who hated the dawn. They're somewhere on the western side of Lucis, where the cold wind of the sea mixed with the vague heat of Mt. Ravatogh.

“C’mon Princess,” Gladio said, with the patience of a monster truck hanging at the edge of a cliff. “We’re here.”

“...A pit stop?” Noctis opened an eye, only to have it land at an all-too familiar trailer parked out by the edge of the gas station. “Oh, thank the Six. I’ll see you guys at the caravan. I need to take a nap.”

“You just took one!” Prompto exclaimed, but Noctis was already heeding the call of soft beds.

“We’re not staying the night,” Ignis called out to him. “This hunt requires us to be at the haven before daybreak.”

Noctis waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah, fine." 

And it _was_ fine. Fine until Gladio found himself locked out of the caravan until Ignis and Prompto came back from shopping.

Prompto’s hand hovered over the handle. “Huh. Yeah, he really did use his abilities to lock this door. Like, even if you did break it down, you still wouldn’t be able to get to him.”

Ignis made a noise that sounded like he found vegetable scraps under the table. “And I don’t suppose this is a sort of lock only _you_ can open?”

Prompto made a few motions with his fingers. “…Yup.”

“We got stuff to do,” Gladio mumbled irritably. “Just ‘cause _you_ won’t drag him out of bed, doesn’t mean the rest of the world goes on pause.”

“Maybe he just wants some privacy?” Prompto offered in his best friend’s defense.

“Just open the damn door.” 

So he opened it.

It wasn’t the tiny caravan interior they were expecting. If there was a polar opposite to cheap, cramped and _indoors_ , it would be this.

 _Altissia_. Balloons and chocobos were everywhere. Noct’s secret stuffed blue fox thing was alive and running around. But for some reason, for some WEIRD and this-is-a-nightmare reason, Kenny Crow was walking and talking and shoving non-consensual drinks down people’s throats.

“CAW KIDS!” Kenny cawed, with the exuberance of a man (daemon?) in a crow costume and high off multiple doses of unknown substances. Fireworks exploded behind him. “It’s a mouthful-a happiness!”

Gladio and Ignis stood at the doorway, mouths hanging open. Neither dared to take a step inside.

What was this? Noctis' dream? Is he dream-editing? He's warped in his sleep before, so the idea can't be that far-fetched.

“I’m…” Prompto finally began. “I’m gonna refresh this room.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto crouched down and took a picture of one of those defeated bee-monsters. The majority of its body had merged with the floor, and while the rest of its mob had already faded to nothing, its limbs continued to blink in and out of existence, twitching and writhing. Like an old neon sign, except it’s a bug.

“What’s the hold-up?” Gladio said. Traces of blue from his sheathed broadsword trailed after him.

“Just this weird glitch that won’t go away no matter how many times we try to fix it,” Prompto replied, fingers still on the shutter. “It keeps coming back.”

Gladio deadpanned. “Leave me out of the mind-fuckery, thanks.”

“You can’t see this thing? This half dead bee, half dirt cosplay?” Prompto motioned to the massive, dead and twitching bug between them. “Noct, don’t tell me you can’t see this either?”

At his call, Noctis looked over at them, and his eyes completely glazing over the glitching mess on the ground. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“A bug,” Gladio supplied, arms crossed.

Noctis grimaced. “Then I’m thankful I _don’t_ see it.”

 

* * *

 

“This hurts like hell.”

Noctis’ complaints have been ringing like victory fanfare since the end of the battle. A daemon by the name of Melusine had been tossing him around from the moss to the pond for about an hour--complete with the "stasis and fifty potions used" package that came with tough enemies. Using his powers to instantly kill their enemies every time gets boring. He's sure his ring could do something of a similar effect; but there's just so much satisfaction in feeling the strain in his arm as he cuts down daemons. His thirst for adrenaline led to nothing but regret and this:

Noctis, laying down in a starfish position in the one dry spot in the entire battlefield, covered in mud and only dry because he'd forced himself to fight in a spot where he'd cast firaga. He's hurt and tired and filthy.

“Hey,” He called over to the blonde coming his way. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, reset my HP or something?”

“Noct, that’s called _cheating_ ,” Prompto replied as he popped open a potion bottle. He crouched down. “Can’t you just, _I don’t know_ , heal yourself with your _godly_ abilities?” 

Noctis groaned. “Hurts. Can’t move. Can’t think.” He glanced over to him pleadingly.

“Dude. Don’t give me that look.” 

Noctis pouted. “Please?”

“Noooct,” Prompto whimpered, in the voice he uses when they’ve been wandering around the same dungeon for three hours. The _I-really-don’t-want-to-do-this-but-I-probably-will-anyway_  voice. “This is my job. I’m being paid to be fair.”

“You’re my Crownsguard,” Noctis shot back, while being very careful to remain still. “You’re supposed to take care of me. This is fair.”

Prompto raised his eyebrows and shook the contents of the bottle with extra flair. “Your loyal Crownsguard is taking _wonderful_ care of you. You should thank him.”

“C’mon. Just this once,” Noctis insisted, even as the contents were applied onto his body. “Prom. I went through _all_ of Gralea just for—“

“Okay! Okay!” Prompto raised his hands in defeat. “Fine! As you wish, _your royal laziness_.”

He flicked his forehead. 

“Hey!” Noctis swatted the hand in defense. “What was that?”

“My new job as party cleric,” Prompto sighed, and pulled him up from the ground. 

“Huh? That easy?” Noctis looked down at his body. He opened and closed his hands. It was better than what potions could do. No ghost of pain residing over where flesh was once torn to shreds. Not even the tingle in his blood after a remedy washes a status ailment away.

Sure, he could’ve healed it himself, but not to this extent. It was as though he was never hurt in the first place, and restored in a way that just seemed… right. Not forced, or patched, or mended. It’s simply just the way it should.

And for the first time, Noctis realizes what it means for Prompto to be a part of the organization that created his world.

 

* * *

 

There are times when Noctis' ability to replicate his chat features came handy in real life--and, okay, they were handy in almost every instance, but they were especially handy _now_. Now that Prompto was sitting--no, _sinking_ into a too-fluffy couch in front of the receptionists desk listening to the quiet hum of elevator-esque music play like it was his funeral march. 

Interviews. They always gave him the jitters, with the way coffees were forced upon his waiting hands and he had no choice but to sip at it in the wake of the receptionist's gaze. Caffeine only added to the nervous tap of his feet. He hated interviews. 

It's not like he didn't want the jobs he had now. But photography didn't pay enough and professional gaming is a short-lived job that would be over once his reflexes become just a second too slow with age, and some fifteen year-old prodigy takes his place. Prompto might wake up one day without a career, and Ignis knew it.

Of course it would be Ignis who thinks far off into the future. The others pushed him to try to build a different career too, even if it meant spending less time online.

Prompto lifted a hand to dial on his phone, leaving a small damp patch on the leather where the sweat from his palms have left a streak.

From the receptionist's point of view, it's really weird for someone to start making a call less than five minutes before their interview started. But she's not being paid enough to care, and she's making up for it with the number of coffee cups she drinks in a day.

“H-hey guys!” the blonde said nervously to the phone. A pause. He's fiddling madly with his tie. “Yeah, mhm, I’m just outside the office. …Nope. Interviews are such a weird concept, like, I literally just spent hours on an application that was basically me begging them to judge me. I can barely handle being judged for five seconds. Now I gotta do it for thirty minutes.”

She made it to three long sips of her drink, pushing a bottle labeled _Bailey's_ further behind the drawers underneath her desk.

“Yeah,” the blonde blushed. “I know. Your practice interviews really helped, Iggy.”

The receptionist looked up after a notification blinked on her computer screen. "Mr. Argentum?"

“…Yeah. Yeah, you’re right," Mr. Argentum concluded, noticeably calmer, and stood up once they made eye-contact. "Oh, uh, I think it’s time for me to go. Thanks for the pep talk, buddy. I really needed it."

It's a long moment before he puts down the phone. "…Mhm. I will. I’ll see you later, Noct.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some more trivia:
> 
> The system fills in the blanks in the others’ memory if the NPC substitute does something out of character (just as it did with the World of Ruin update). Noctis is aware when this happens but he chooses to ignore it, or he doesn’t actually realize since he’s typically:  
> 1) Sleeping  
> 2) Zoned out/half-asleep  
> 3) Playing King’s Knight  
> 4) Doing his own thing (fishing/self-care/randomly hiding on motel rooftops for some reason??)
> 
> Prompto will log out during idle times like long car rides/pit stops to reply to his private messages or write reports. Or just typical irl stuff like eating and going to the bathroom. After the end, Prompto spends significantly less time in-game, but he doesn’t feel any less disconnected (wink wink) from his friends.
> 
> The programmers who created the game in this AU were initially trying to make a Noctis/Ignis/Gladio who could respond to you based on your personality. For example, Noctis would have his 4 typical choices for responses that we get in the actual FFXV, but AI Noctis of this story would have to choose one option based on who you are as a person. The ability to make choices for themselves and react to real people eventually led them to have the capacity for self-awareness. 
> 
> Noctis has always felt there was something off in Eos, but only realized he was in a game because of all the “fourth wall breaks” Prompto keeps saying. 
> 
> Due to unpopular demand the “world of ruin” update was revised. No one liked playing in eternal night, and it was changed to a limited-time event. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! :D


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